The Butterfly Effect
by IlUvSkitTLes
Summary: A single occurrence, no matter how small, can change the course of the universe forever. In the Pilot, Lucas never comes to New York and Riley doesn't prove to Maya she can be like her by flirting with the cute blond on the subway. Maya doesn't find guidance in Lucas and spirals out of control. Somehow their paths still cross, just not in the way she would've preferred.*On Hiatus*
**The Butterfly Effect**

 **Description: A single occurrence, no matter how small, can change the course of the universe forever. In the Pilot, Lucas never comes to New York and Riley doesn't flirt with the cute blond on the subway. Things spiral out of control. Somehow Maya and Lucas's paths still cross, just not in the way she would've preferred.**

 **To explain this a little more in depth, Lucas doesn't come to New York right away. Which means Riley doesn't attempt at proving to Maya that she can be like her by flirting with the cute blond on the subway. Riley doesn't influence Maya to be the best version of herself and doesn't come around after Cory tells her she's a bad influence, stuck on the idea that she's not good enough to be Riley's friend anymore. With Lucas's absence, Maya doesn't have anyone to snap her back into reality and put her in her place when she needs it and things spiral out of control.**

 **A/N: This damn story line has been in my head since Texas and my brain decides at 4am after months of working on this that it's gotta finish it right now. I don't know how this is gonna turn out, but it will be a multi-chapter story. You guys have been lovely with my other fics and I love you all. Enjoy!**

 **A/N: Course language, Violence, sexual shit and lots of research to fool people into believing I know anything about anything in this.**

 **(*)**

Usually she'd speak her mind but, with a gun to her head, she decides maybe it's not the most appropriate of situations. It was an unfortunate string of events that were in no way her fault, let's put that out there right now. A hand wraps around her neck and she takes a step back against her broken heel, turning her head to disregard the blood running through her teeth and watches it hit the ground through the hair curtained around her face. And if adrenaline wasn't pulsing through her veins right now, she'd probably feel the stinging of the bruise starting to form on her jaw. Least this'll make a good article at work. If she makes it out of this alive. She glances up at the group of men warning her silently to oblige to the man's orders. Well, if he was the one that decides her fate, she doesn't need to be told twice. Out of all the miscommunications, this hits the top of her list. That counts the time her date mistook her for a hooker and left her with the bill and a weeks worth of dishes in the back room of a hole in the wall bar. The barrel of the gun digs deeper on her head causing her to wince. Another pair of hands start to pat down her ankles, up her knees and excruciatingly slow up her thighs. She takes a strained breath to contain her anger but compulsively kicks at the curious fingers. "Business meeting, huh?" She lets out a snarky, immediately regretful reply, when hands tighten around her throat. The man chuckles and she raises her eyes to meet his familiar ones. Unfucking believable. His normal dull coffee brown eyes turned dark, almost black. Inky was probably a better word, but that's just her trying to squeeze the fact that she's a writer into this.

"Well, sweetheart, I didn't exactly _lie_." He cocks the gun back, releasing the tension from her head while he gestures to their surroundings.

She tears her eyes away from his to the dingy warehouse, her eyes burning from the noxious fumes. Cocaine. She almost laughs as her eyes follow the tall rows of the tightly packed white substances. A drug corporation. Nice. Moving her wrists slightly against the rope that binds her to the wall, she leans her head back against it. Here's a note ladies; when you think your man is cheating, don't track his phone and drive 300 kilometers. You'll find a .44 revolver pressed against your scalp and the hands of the man you thought was a marketing manager around your throat. And maybe if you're lucky, his best friend that came to watch football games with the both of you, patting you down for wires. Fucking Frank. He helped her make tuna rolls last week and now he's about to watch her get her brains blown out without so much as a pity tear. And they ask her why she has trust issues.

"She's clean." Fuck you, Frank.

"Good, take Mike and make sure she wasn't followed." Her boyfriend pauses and tilts his head, bringing his attention back to her with a sickeningly sweet smile. The back door slams shut, echoing through the large warehouse. "Now why don't you tell me who you're working for?" His voice is calm and so are his actions as he invades her personal space. The tight grip of his fingers around the gun tell her differently.

And is he fucking serious right now?

"At the fucking New York Mail. Not everyone has a Hannah Montana secret double life, Johnny." She tilts her head with a strained smile and she swears one of his followers laughs.

Johnny hums, grabbing her face between his hands. She winces and fuck, yeah, she can definitely feel the bruise now when fingers are digging into it. "As witty as always." He whispers, his breath fanning her face. She closes her eyes, turning her head as far to the side as she can. "You're not wearing a wire, so you're not with the FBI. Who is it? The Mexicans?"

She snorts, her eyes snapping down to the gun pressed under her chin. "Oh, fuck you Johnny. You think I'd waste 2 years of my life with you just so I can bust your ass on some _stupid drug deal_?! I work at a god damn newspaper office, how dangerous can I possibly be?"

"This is the biggest deal we've had come in and you fucking screwed it all up, Maya!" He raises his voice and spit hits her cheek. How. Disgusting. She refuses to die like this. He turns his back to her as he continues mumbling nonsense she couldn't give a rat's ass about and shifts her wrists against the wooden pillar behind her. She hisses under her breath as a wood chip pricks her finger. This could work. She keeps her eyes on him as she drags the rope along the wood chip.

"I thought you were cheating so I tracked your phone." She deadpans before pausing. Okay, yeah, saying it out loud, she can see how that may not sound so believable. "Maybe on our first date it would have been great to, _oh i don't know_...fill a girl in? Oh hey, I sometimes sneak off in the middle of the night to tend to _my drug corporation_ so don't wait up, hun!" Her voice drowns in sarcasm and Johnny pulls back. She straightens her back. Maybe she may actually live to see another shitty day.

Until he turns around. He tosses the gun to Frank who was walking back towards them. He catches it effortlessly and it makes her hatred for him grow immensely. "Kill her. And don't make a mess this time." He snaps as he casts her one last glance and disappears into the rows of Coke.

She tilts her head slightly as she thinks about it. This _does_ explain the excessive amounts of confidence and dick attitude with the lack of sleep. That and the time she accidentally elbowed him in the face in her sleep. He woke up with dried blood down his chin in the morning because he couldn't feel it, which she now knows is because of snorting chemicals. How dense can she be? Two years and she had absolutely no idea?

The sound of rustling causes her to raise her head back up at the overweight man with a tarp between his hands. He eyes her when he lays it out around her feet. Okay, she's seen Dexter, the white tarp means accept your fate, you're already dead.

The men circled around her start to vanish in various directions and she quickens the pace of her wrists, bobbing them up and down against the loose piece of wood. Her eyes start to sting as she holds in her tears. She can feel a wet substance start to trickle down her hand at her inability to steady her shaking form and let the wood dig deeper into her skin.

Frank doesn't take his eyes off her, tapping the gun against the inside of his palm as if he's having a mental debate about the whole situation. There's sweat trickling down his face, and the way he keeps pulling at his tie tells her he's not gonna go through with it. She studies him as he tries to rummage up the courage he doesn't have. He has two kids, one fourteen and one seven. Wife left him three months ago. She looks around as her face falls. He must be doing this for the money. Pressuring him to just shoot her will make him lose focus long enough for her to come up with a plan.

She purses her lips and watches his cautious rocking back and forth, quickening the pace of her wrists against the thick rope. "If you're gonna kill me Frank..." She takes a long pause to grab his attention as he turned back to her. "Might as well paint the walls with the blood splatter now. Johnny comes back and I'm still alive..." She continues when the rope snaps. Stiffening against the pillar, she holds her hands behind her back, glancing down at the clearly visible rope that had pooled around her feet. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

"They'll be your problem, not mine, sweetheart."

She blows air through her nose, unimpressed as her feet hovered closer to the rope to step on it, bringing it out of view. But she keeps eye contact and he doesn't seem to notice, so she's doing something right. She hums, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. "No, nope. That, Frank, would definitely be a _you_ problem." His eyes screw shut for a moment and she takes the opportunity to spot all the possible exits. Her eyes shift to the front door. That's asking for a death wish, she knows there's at least six men and only one in front of her. She glances over to the far end of the warehouse, the only thing visible between tall shelves is the fading Exit sign flickering, as if the light is about to give out. Not locked from what she's seen previous, so it could do if she can make it over there.

She casts a quick glance behind her. Air vent. She sighs at the size of it, but she's squeezed her ass into some pretty tight jeans so it's feasible.

"This isn't personal, Maya." She purses her lips at his words with a small nod.

"'Course, Frank. Water under the bridge. I mean, not that it matters after you blow a cap in my head but, hey, at least you won't have to deal with the underlining guilt, right? At least that's what you'll tell yourself when you put your kids to bed every night." She mentions. The way his eyes fall give her this evil satisfaction that she hit a soft spot

Frank opens his mouth slightly but immediately shuts it as a siren goes off. It's gone as fast as it came and the building fills back in silence. Frank whips around to the front door and her eyes dart to the shelves. This is her only chance. She drops her hands from her back and makes a run for it.

And suddenly she's starring at the floor. The fuck? She looks back at the rope tangled around her ankles. You've got to be fucking kidding me. Frank turns back around, taking in the scene and aims the gun. Her heart beat quickens and she scrambles to get up as a shot goes off, missing her by an inch and barrels into the floor. She lets out a shriek, a cloud of dust creating an aura around her. Raising her arms to protect herself, she dashes in between the shelves

Shit, shit, shit, shit. Fuck the vent, back door exit it is.

More sirens echo surrounding the warehouse causing her to pick up the speed. Another gun shot goes off and she stops between two shelves, stilling herself as white mist hits her face. She turns to one of the many packages, watching cocaine spill from a bullet sized hole. Fuck. She takes a hand to her face, trying to rub the excess off.

"Get the fuck back here you little bitch!"

Her body jolts with sudden energy, glancing behind her before she takes off again. No, she could definitely get out of this alive, she feels incredibly confident right now. She makes a quick turn, her eyes landing on another suited man reaching into his jacket. She pulls back behind the shelve out of view, holding her breath. She's screwed. This is it. This is how she'll die. Suddenly not graduation high school, losing touch with her parents, the beatings, the weed she smoked when things got a little too hard to handle...it all meant nothing. Not one fucked up moment in her life is gonna matter when she's gone. And not one person is gonna miss her when it happens. She shimmies a bit, peering over the side of the shelf. Flinging herself back, she lets out a few tears as the man inches closer.

She wipes at her nose furiously and pulls her hand back to see white power clinging to her fingers. Oh god. She pulls her other hand up as they start to shake. No, she looks down, her whole body is shaking violently and she doesn't know whether it's cocaine or the fact that this is her last breathing moment. They'll discover her body and find drugs in her system and anyone who hears will think even less of her when she's six feet under, which she didn't think was even possible. Her mom will cry over her grave and wonder why no one else showed up. People from high school will talk about the girl that disappeared after tenth grade and she'll have her fifteen minutes of fame. She brushes a tear off her cheek harshly and takes a few breaths. She wonders if Riley will find out, what she'd say, if she'd even care. If she even knew why she pushed her away in the first place.

 _"You're no good for her, Maya. She wanted to be like you and you let her. Suspension doesn't come off your record, Maya. You potentially ruined her future."_

 _"Mr. Matthews I didn't plan for any of that to happen, I-"_

 _"You shouldn't have let it. I don't want you hanging around her anymore. You're no good for her. I'm sorry."_

 _"Maya, I don't understand! It's been two years, just tell me what I did!"_

 _"Please just leave me alone."_

Footsteps bring her attention back and she turns her head, grabbing at the transparent packaging behind her when the footsteps get closer. Dragging it off the shelf, she grips it tight in her hand, dropping her arm to her side. Just a little closer...

" **EVERYBODY DOWN**!"

She jumps out of her skin as the door snaps off it's hinges and slams to the floor. She closes her eyes, tightening her hands around the package when multiple voices pile through the room. She snaps her head to the right just in time to see Frank ditch the gun and take off. Her eyes light up, the cops. She pushes herself off the shelf she was pressed against and nearly runs around the corner.

She's gonna live.

" **GET DOWN ON YOUR STOMACH WITH YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD**!"

She stops fast in her tracks, almost tripping as 4 red dots appear on her chest. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but she doesn't know where to start when she glances down at the sniper lights scattering her body like a connect-the-dots puzzle. She drops the cocaine she forgot she was holding and raises her hands, "W-wait-" She starts before a body slams into hers sending her face first into the ground. Her arms are ripped from her sides and over her head.

"I was held capti-"

"You have the right to remain silent. If you do say anything, what you say can be used against you in a court of law." She sighs, closing her eyes, resting her head against the cold pavement.

"You have it all wro-" She continues as metal handcuffs slap around her wrists tightly. Two pairs of hands wrap around her forearms, dragging her up into a standing position.

"You have the right to consult with a lawyer and have that lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire."

She huffs, struggling out of their grip. " _I was held captive, they almost killed me!_ " She raged on deaf ears, being (roughly) escorted outside. There had to be fifteen police cars and SUV's that all failed to be there when she first arrived.

Another gun shot goes off back in the warehouse, the sound blared through her brain a million times louder than the previous shots, despite being farther from the sound. She blinks blankly. Her mind was just clouds, she couldn't believe what was happening. Her body was still shaking but the only thing she was worried about was slowing her heart beat down. She could feel her blood pumping through every vein in her body.

"We got a runner!" One of the men in a uniform calls from behind her and suddenly she's being shoved into another pair of arms. "Friar! Take this one into custody!" She looks up at the blonde who had a tight grip on her arm as the previous men take off into the corn field. He has a suit on, she notices, unlike the others with a basic uniform.

"But-" The blonde protests, glancing down at her through narrowed eyes. He sighs harshly and drags her passed the cop cars, to an SUV.

"Not so harsh!" She spits when he pushes at her head into the backseat. He snorts and slams the door closed.

She's handcuffed in the backseat of a police car. Her boyfriend is the leader of a drug cartel. She was almost shot. And she accidentally snorted cocaine.

The irritated blond (Feather or whatever the fuck his name is) looks to be protesting the arrest to another man in a suit. She looks around, bobbing her knee up and down. She leans her head against the cool window, squeezing her eyes shut. The idea that some snort this stuff everyday is beyond her. It feels as if she has three hearts, it was beating so fast it's gonna fly out of her chest. She could run laps right now, she was so ready for life. She was the shit. She kicked that drug cartels ass. She's alive!

The radio makes a static noise bringing her out of her bubble of cockiness just as the driver's side door opened. Her leg shook faster and she leans back against her cuffed hands to stop them from shaking too.

The blond drops into his seat roughly, snatching the radio from the dashboard. "1602." He has an accent, she notices first.

" _1602, what's your location_?" Another voice flows through the radio and the blonde snaps his eyes up to the review mirror. She meets his eyes for a fraction of a second before he tears his away, shoving the key in the ignition.

"On the Mexican drug cartel bust. I'm dropping a suspect into custody now." He dispatches back. The voice on the other end disappears as he shoves the radio back on the dashboard.

She purses her lips, glancing at the fancy controls. She hesitates before leaning forward in her seat, tilting her head towards the tall blond who's eyes were focused on the road as they pulled away from the scene. "What accent is that? I'd say quite hillbilly-ish." She comments.

No response.

"Okay then, not a conversationalist, got it."

"I don't make light conversation with the criminals I arrest." He growls under his breath while his fingers tighten around the wheel.

She lets out a dry laugh, leaning back in her seat. Unbelievable. She turns her head to the window, watching the corn fields pass. "That's the thing, Ranger Rick, I'm not a criminal." She snaps back.

The blond snorts in disagreement, glancing at her quickly through the review mirror. She doesn't take her eyes off the fields. "That's why we arrested you in the warehouse, holding a bag of cocaine yourself, right?"

She tilts her head, biting the inside of her cheek. "For your information, I was gonna use that as a weapon." She drowns out, rolling her eyes. It's silent for a few moments before the man shifts gears and suddenly they're pulled to the side of the road at a hauling stop. Her head bangs off the seat infront of her, causing her to curse as the blond unbuckles his seat belt, letting it snap back with a clink. She eyes him with a hand pressed against the side of her head. Why does she get the nutcase? Frank probably got the cop offering him donuts for the long ride down to the station.

The blond whips around in his seat, throwing an arm over it to stare at her with narrowed eyes. "You're under the influence right now." He stats, although it sounded like a question, he seems pretty sure of himself.

She panics, clearing her throat and turns back to the window. "Nope." Fuck, her voice cracked.

"Your leg hasn't stopped shaking since you got in the car and you feel a little tired don't you?" He starts. There's a hint of cockiness in his words but his face is expressionless. "Your eyes are so far closed, I can't tell if you're looking at the view outside or the back of your eyelids. And you have a short attention span, but maybe that's just your regular sparkling personality."

"Did you get your attitude from the little farm you grew up on or was it when you moved out to New York?"

"Why are you so persistent on knowing where I came from?"

"Just trying to label you, the same way you're labeling me."

"Oh really?" The blond raises his brows.

Alright Maya, don't show him you're weak. Don't let him know he's getting to you.

She laughs, leaning forward, just inches away from him. "I'm not a criminal, so why don't you take the giant stick out of your ass and find out what really happened?" She retaliates.

"I hold your future in my hands, so save the bitchiness for the judge. See how far it gets you."

She knows it's only been five minutes, but she hates him.

 **(*)**

She flinches awake to something dropping onto the desk. She lifts her head off the metal desk, letting her eyes adjust to the low lighting settled in the small room. She goes to raise her hand to rub her head to rid her headache but looks down to the handcuffs chained to the table, restricting her. Flashbacks start flooding back to her as someone pulls a chair out adjacent to her, letting it scratch against the floor.

"Oh good, you're awake. I'm Detective Luh." She looks up at an older Chinese man in a suit similar to that grumpy fuck from the car ride over and leans back in her chair to take in the pictures scattered across the table. Her eyes wander over them and- wait.

"These are from my apartment." She points out slowly, leaning forward in her seat to get a closer look.

The Detective lets out a dry laugh, getting up to sit on the edge of the table, closer to her. He grabs a folder from the desk and flips it open. "I hear you're pleading innocent." He observes, lowering the folder to look at her in mockery.

Of course he doesn't believe her. She clears her throat, glancing over at the large tinted window across from her where she knew other detectives were watching. She watches Rookie Blue, fuck off. "Contrary to popular belief, I am. And you all would know that if you didn't tackle me to the ground." She mumbles through her teeth, keeping her eyes straight ahead. She hopes Ranger Rick was watching right about now. "By the way, some of your detectives have absolutely no conversational skills, it's a shame." She continues.

The man ignores her as he pushes a bag of white powder towards her with his pen. "You know what that is?" He questions.

She glances down at the bag, images flashing through her mind. Clenching her teeth, she grabs it in her hands. This fucking drug was the whole reason she's in here in the first place. This drug is the reason her boyfriend turned his back on her after two years. The reason she almost died. "Of course I know what the hell it is. Considering I almost died for it." She spits and drops it back on the table in disgust.

He ducks his head with a nod. "That was confiscated from your apartment." He adds. She furrows her brows, taken aback. There were no drugs in their shared apar-you know what, she doesn't even doubt it now. She could go home and find there's a secret closet she didn't know about where he keeps his stash. She wouldn't blink an eye.

There was a long pause before the door opened. "We lost Castalano, Sir." She looks up at the sound of her boyfriend's last name, locking eyes with a blond. A giant smirk appeared on her face as he rolled his eyes.

"Ranger Rick, just can't stay away from me, can you?" She gloats.

The blond takes a deep breath to control himself, turning his attention back to Detective Luh. "I'll come back later, Nathan just wanted me to inform you." He blurts out quickly and turns to leave as the older man stands up.

"No, no. Lucas, come in. This is your suspect after all."

"Lucas?" She repeats, pursing her lips to keep from any vile words about to pour out of her mouth. She's really gotta learn how to control that, it almost got her killed not even twenty four hours ago.

Lucas stiffens, taking a quick glance at the tinted window behind him before approaching the two of them. "Alright." He grunts. She leans back in her chair (as far as she can when she's chained to a table) and watches him cross his arms over his chest.

"This is Lucas Friar, he's the Narcotics Detective. He was working on the case we busted you and your buddies on."

"We've met." He says under his breath.

She scoffs and leans back in the metal chair. "How many times do I need to tell you that I wasn't involved in this? I showed up, not knowing what to expect and was _held at gun point by my boyfriend_. " She hisses.

"See that's the problem. You boyfriend escaped before we could search the warehouse." Detective Luh circles around the table. She keeps her eyes on the photos when he leans closer to her. " We wanna know where he is."

She snaps her head up at Lucas. "If I remember correctly, I was gunned down and thrown into a car before I had a second to check what direction the guy who tried to kill me took off. Sorry."

Lucas clenches his jaw. "Somehow I find that hard to believe." He sneers, grabbing the folder from the older detective. "You don't have any emergency contacts, no family, no friends...you fell off the grid after tenth grade. You're dating a drug dealer for two years and you have no idea he's dealing cocaine in his spare time? No idea about the warehouse or the drugs in your own home? And we just happen to find you at that exact warehouse running around the corner with a bag of cocaine in your hands?" He continues.

She taps her fingers against the desk for a moment before leaning forward. "Listen to me." She grits through her teeth, pulling at the cuffs around her wrists. She pushes the photos towards the blond in anger. A few slide off onto the floor as she swallows hard. "There were men _shooting_ at me. He tied my wrists behind my back and hit me repeatedly. He ordered one of his men to kill me and when I got lose, I ran. I grabbed the fucking cocaine as a make-do weapon. I thought I was gonna _die._ "

"Why did you show up in the first place?" She looks up at the older detective and sighs.

"I thought he was cheating and tracked his phone."

"You were heavily induced when we found you."

She groans, pulling her head into her hands, resting her elbows against the table.

"A bullet shot through one of the bags and hit my face. When I tried to rub it away, I must have inhaled it. Now please, if you don't have anything else to hold me on, I want to leave. " She pleads, her voice slowly faltering as well as her energy.

Detective Luh smirks down at her. "It's sad, I almost believe you." He starts, walking back around the table. He grabs the empty chair across from her, dropping it in the corner of the room. Her brows stitch together as she watches in confusion. He climbs up on the chair, grabbing at the camera in the far corner, ripping the wires out of the wall. "We need you to help us find him." He explains when he jumps back down, sliding the chair back into place as if nothing happened.

But what the fuck just happened.

She almost chokes on her own spit. "Are you on crack?" There's a pause. "That was definitely the wrong phrase to use in this particular situation."

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Lucas pursing his lips to keep a laugh in.

"No, Hart, you are though." Luh deadpans and claps his hands together. "Anyways, I'll give you an ultimatum. Either you help us look for your boyfriend, or that over there, " He gestures to the bag of cocaine she picked up earlier. "Will go into evidence against you. And your finger prints are all over it."

"You _framed_ me?"

"Let's see, Lucas?" He turns to the blond who looked like a deer caught in headlights. "How many years is that in prison?"

Lucas shakes his head, eyeing her for a moment before walking over to the other man. He leans in, talking in a hushed voice. She leans forward over the table as far as she could, straining to hear.

" _Sir, that's illegal_."

" _I don't remember asking for your input, Friar. You obey my orders or by all means, pack your things._ "

She leans back quickly as they turn back around. Lucas clears his throat, looking back at the tinted window behind them. "Life. It's life in prison."

She flinches as Luh slams his hands against the table. "And five hundred thousand dollars. Which I assume a druggie like you doesn't have." He sneers, "This is why I tell you young people to stop online dating. Look at the mess you're in. Twenty Three years old, you just wasted your life away."

Her eyes start to burn with tears as she kept her gaze on the photos. "What do I need to do?" She whispers.

Luh smiles and stands up, patting Lucas on the back. "You two are going on a man hunt."

Lucas's eyes widen, his eyes shifting to hers. "I'm sorry, what?"

"No."

 **(*)**

 **Riley, Zay and Farkle will be in this at some point and the story will be further explained as it's extremely confusing right now.**

 **But if you like it, Review, favorite, alert, whatever floats your boat and lemme know!**


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